


it's a long, long way to ba sing se (but the girls in the city ...)

by leoperidot



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: (my favorite tag ever), Angst, Autistic Zuko (Avatar), Character Study, Episode: s02e15 Tales of Ba Sing Se, Gay Zuko (Avatar), Gen, Iroh (Avatar) is a Good Uncle, Zuko (Avatar)-centric, Zuko is an Awkward Turtleduck, ish, those are both canon and you can't tell me otherwise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:00:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24743488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leoperidot/pseuds/leoperidot
Summary: “Odd” was what his mother called him. An odd turtleduck, his uncle had said that once. Lu Ten hadn’t called him anything, hadn’t put words on it, but he had understood. He never put his hands on Zuko to stop him flapping or rocking or tapping. Lu Ten’s voice was the sort that seemed to be made for intimidation, but he never raised it at Zuko. Lu Ten listened. So did Zuko’s mother.His father and Azula called him other things. A freak. Unworthy. Disrespectful. Lucky to be born. (He disagreed with that last one.)Literally just Zuko being moody during s2e15. That's it, that's the tweet
Relationships: Iroh & Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 37
Kudos: 404





	it's a long, long way to ba sing se (but the girls in the city ...)

**Author's Note:**

> distracted boyfriend meme but it’s me, my original manuscript that’s nearing 25k words, and avatar: the last airbender zuko-centric angst fic
> 
> i never watched atla as a kid (pbs kids gang rise up) so god bless netflix for letting me have this blessed content now. i binged it in the past couple weeks and now that i’ve finished it i don’t know what to do with my life. 
> 
> this is neither edited nor beta-read lmao. needless to say i am not super well-versed in the Lore™ but i relied heavily on the wiki and if i messed anything up, feel free to tell me !!! okay that’s all please enjoy

In the tea shop, one of the duties that fell to “Lee” was dishwashing, and surprisingly, he didn’t mind. Once, in his old life, washing dishes would have been far, far beneath him, handled by the sorts of servants the prince never would have come into contact with. But it wasn’t nearly as bad as he had expected. It was soothing in its own way. It busied his hands, freeing up his mind.

The problem was that when his mind was free, he disliked where it wandered.

Lately, that place had been Lu Ten. His birthday had recently come and gone. Iroh had not mentioned it to Zuko. Iroh probably thought Zuko hadn’t realized. He had, but he’d had no way of broaching the topic. Everything he rehearsed in his head just sounded insensitive or insipid or pointless.

Iroh kept a picture of Lu Ten hidden away in the apartment; Zuko had recently found it, only half-accidentally. Lu Ten was eighteen in the portrait, only two years older than Zuko was now, but his image had a maturity to it, a certain capability, a masculinity Zuko knew he would never achieve. Lu Ten had been tall and broad, built powerfully, like a real soldier. Though Zuko had the height, he had none of the bluster: he was skinny, slouchy, weak. Lu Ten’s striking baritone voice—Zuko remembered it well—could enthrall a room. Zuko lisped and rasped and murmured. Lu Ten was charismatic, commanding, thoughtful, friendly, a born leader. Zuko was impulsive, desperate, by turns fearful and careless, and no matter how hard he tried, he could not look people in the eye.

Most of all, Lu Ten was whole. 

That was what gnawed at Zuko most. Since childhood, he’d always imagined himself growing up to be the same strong, brave sort of man as Lu Ten. But he’d ruined his chances of that when he was thirteen and besmirched his honor. 

It was not just a punishment. Burns were used as minor punishments for him and his sister all the time, little nips of fire on their wrists from tutors or nannies or their father. Those burns healed. More major offenses were met with more major burns, but never where anyone else could see. Zuko’s back was testament to that. But to go for the face? For the eye? That wasn’t a punishment, it was a branding. A message burned into Zuko’s skin, so all who came across him would know that he had dishonored the Fire Nation. That he had dishonored his father. 

_You will learn respect, and suffering will be your teacher._

The eye was nigh on useless now. Zuko had hoped—but no, the healer on his ship way back then had been firm, the vision would not return. He was lucky he still had an eye at all. It could sense light, and the very vestiges of peripheral vision remained, but it would never be anything like it had been. 

Here was one thing Zuko had always hated: other people’s hands on his face. His father knew this. His father knew this very well. 

Just another reminder of why Zuko would never be a worthy Fire Nation prince.

“Odd” was what his mother had called him. An odd turtleduck, his uncle had said that once. Lu Ten hadn’t called him anything, hadn’t put words on it, but he had understood. He never put his hands on Zuko to stop him flapping or rocking or tapping. Lu Ten’s voice was the sort that seemed to be made for intimidation, but he never raised it at Zuko. Lu Ten listened. So did Uncle Iroh. So did Zuko’s mother.

His father and Azula called him other things. A freak. Unworthy. Disrespectful. Lucky to be born. (He disagreed with that last one.)

And then, on top of all of the rest of it, there was—to put it delicately, discreetly, euphemistically, the way they’d say it in the Fire Nation—the _kind of man_ Zuko was. 

It was not acceptable in the Fire Nation. Not just unacceptable, it was unspeakable. There were words, Zuko knew, words whispered about the degenerates they glimpsed from the palanquins, words thrown at him by his father when his firebending did not measure up. He could not imagine himself hanging those words on his identity by choice, not in this world, not in his family. He was not that kind of brave.

It didn’t matter, anyway. He could not change himself, but he also could not change the Fire Nation. If he ever returned—and he would return, Avatar defeated, honor restored—there was a strict path for him. He would marry a woman when he was twenty or so, a woman with status and promise, a woman who would look good on the arm of the Crown Prince and someday (though Zuko hardly thought he’d reach such a day) the Fire Lord. A woman like his sister’s ally Mai. He would produce a male heir with her. They would be locked in a loveless marriage. She would probably grow to hate him for his coldness. He would become his father. The cycle would continue.

At the idea of such a life, Zuko shuddered. His hands shook, his stomach turned. 

But it did not matter what he thought. All that mattered was the continuation of Sozin’s dynasty. All that mattered was honor.

Sometimes Zuko found himself envious of his Ba Sing Se alter ego. Lee did not have to produce heirs. Lee would not ascend to any throne. The most Lee would inherit was the tea shop. And perhaps Lee could find another man like him, not a degenerate or a lowlife, just someone he could love, who could love him. In the Earth Kingdom, it didn’t seem so far-fetched.

It was pleasant enough to imagine such a future, occasionally, in idle moments.

“Lee!”

Of which there were few.

Zuko dried his hands on his apron and returned to the front of the shop. The afternoon rush was hitting.

— — — 

There she was again, that girl at the corner table. She had come in nearly every day for the past two weeks, always ordering a rosehip tea, always staring at him as he worked. Zuko tried not to look suspicious as he headed back with a tray and the empty pot of rosehip. “Uncle,” he said in a low voice, “we have a problem. One of the customers is onto us.” Iroh, who had been restocking the shelves, stepped off his ladder. “Don’t look now, but there was a girl over there at the corner table. She knows we’re Fire Nation.” Iroh turned around. Old people were useless. “Didn’t I say don’t look?”

“You’re right, Zuko,” Iroh said, knowingly. “I’ve seen that girl in here quite a lot. Seems to me she has quite a little crush on you.”

“What?” 

“Thank you for the tea.” 

Spirits, she was right behind them. Zuko nearly jumped out of his skin.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

“My name’s Lee,” said Zuko, depositing her payment in the cash register. At least he could answer this. “My uncle and I just moved here.”

“Hi, Lee. My name’s Jin. Thank you, and, well, I was wondering if you’d like to go out sometime?”

Before Zuko could come up with a response, Iroh cut in, “He’d love to.”

“Great!” Jin’s smile was wide and shiny. She reminded Zuko more than a little of his sister’s friend Ty Lee. “I’ll meet you in front of the shop at sundown.” And Jin turned and left, bouncier than she had been.

His uncle, still smiling, patted him on the shoulder.

“What was that for?!” 

Iroh shrugged. “You are a hard worker, you deserve a break, she seems like a nice girl. A very loyal customer, too. If all else fails, we can just give her a coupon for her troubles!” He chuckled.

“But I don’t want …” Zuko’s voice trailed off. 

His uncle tutted. “It’s not an arranged marriage, Zuko, it’s one evening. Just give it a try.” Iroh’s face lit up. “I can do your hair! I used to do Lu Ten’s.” He gave Zuko a smile and returned to his restocking, singing under his breath, “ _It’s a long, long way to Ba Sing Se_ …”

Zuko was silent, flapping one hand by his side in stress. 

“ _But the girls in the city, they look so pretty, and they kiss so sweet—_ ”

“I don’t want to go out with her.” The words were out of Zuko’s mouth before he could stop them.

Iroh fell silent, but he did not look up from his work. 

The tea shop was empty now; it was just him and his uncle behind the counter. So he took a deep breath. “I don’t think I—” 

“I know,” Iroh interrupted. He stepped down from the ladder, picked up the abandoned tray. “Please, Zuko.” He did not look at his nephew. “For your safety, there are things you should not tell anyone.” And he brushed past Zuko into the back room.

Zuko was alone. 

He was alone and potently aware that he was nothing more than a lackluster imitation of the person Iroh truly wanted there.

**Author's Note:**

> am i the only one who thinks jin looks like ty lee??
> 
> a little explanation about the end-- i love iroh as much as the next person, he has my whole heart. the thing is, i think he understands the depths of the horrors zuko's already faced, and he fears zuko being hurt again. i hope it doesn't feel ooc. i dug into the tougher, more hardened side of iroh here.


End file.
